When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love 1)

A moment after that, the SUV pulled into the lane in front of me, tires screeching.

“What’s going on?” Dante demanded, his voice hard and alert.

The ambient noise of conversation in the background went quiet.

“I think I’m being followed,” I whispered stupidly as if the people in the other cars could hear me.

“How many?” he demanded, snapping his fingers at someone in the room with him and then muttering something in Italian I couldn’t discern over the roar of blood in my ears.

“I think I recognize the motorcycle from that day we drove you to the arraignment.” The body on the back was large and helmeted, almost completely anonymous, but it was hard to forget the details of a man who’d shot at you, even through a car window. “There’s also a black GMC SUV.”

“Adriano and Chen are coming for you,” he told me over the renewed cacophony in the background. “Where are you exactly?”

“Korean War Veterans Parkway in Arden Heights. I’m almost at Latourette Park. What should I do?” I asked in a way that was almost begging, desperate for guidance.

I was a lawyer.

The most action I’d ever experienced in my job was being doused with red paint on the way into court when I’d defended a low-level fashion company for cruelty against animals.

Car chases were outside of my purview.

“Should I try to find a police station?” I guessed, frantically beginning to type it into the GPS system.

“No,” he ordered, his voice heavy as a weighted blanket over my raw nerves. “I don’t trust the cops on Staten Island, too many Cosa Nostra there. Can you try to lose them?”

An exit was approaching on the right. The SUV in front of me slowed down to a near crawl while the bike behind me sped up to kiss the bumper of my car. The Ferrari jerked under my hands on the wheel. They were trying to force me into the exit.

I explained as much to Dante as I fought to keep control of the car without letting them batter it.

“Elena.” His voice whipped through the phone, startling me out of my fearful fog. “You are my fighter, a gladiator. You do not cow in the face of adversity. Do not be afraid. I’m going to talk you through this. There is a dashcam in the car. Frankie is hacking into it now, and I’ll be able to guide you, capisci? Chen just left, and Adriano’s already in Brooklyn. They’ll get there as soon as they can. Try to get over the Verrazano Bridge and they’ll meet you on Belt Parkway.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see, sucking in a deep breath to settle myself. This was just like facing the mafiosos in our little urine yellow house in Naples.

This was just bravery.

Coraggio.

I’d be fine because Dante wouldn’t let them hurt me. Even an hour away, I knew he wouldn’t let them get to me.

That unshakable faith, something like I’d felt as a girl for God, settled me deeply.

“Va bene,” I agreed as I put the car in reverse and gunned the engine. “Let’s go.”

The Ferrari shot backward so quickly, my torso jacked forward.

It had the desired effect.

The bike behind me swerved madly as it tried to get out of my path, forced to divert into the other lane on a barrage of shouting horns. I took the opportunity to peel across two lanes away from the exit they’d been trying to force me into. The lane opened up in front of me as the road changed to Drumgoole West.

“Take Richmond to Forest Hill and try to lose them in the park,” Dante instructed over the roar of the Ferrari as I pushed the speedometer from 55 MPH to 60 then 65. “Don’t worry about the cops, Lena. We can deal with them later if we have to. Just drive.”

It was easier said than done. Weaving in and out of traffic in the bright daylight of a weekday morning in Staten Island was hardly inconspicuous. Horns and rough shouts followed me as I blew by other cars. I clipped the edge of a Volvo, felt the clang in my teeth, but didn’t stop.

The motorbike was still behind me, weaving with ease through the traffic. The SUV struggled with a half-block lag.

I wasn’t a professional driver. The only car I’d ever owned was the family’s ancient Fiat back in Naples, and though I’d always loved cars and driving, even the occasional drag race with Sebastian, I hadn’t done much of it since I’d moved to America. I wasn’t equipped to deal with this, not really, but my body seemed to have found its own adrenaline-filled calm. My vision was razor-sharp, my eyes unblinking as I stared as if through a tunnel at the road ahead of me, my instincts quicksilver as I jerked in and out of lanes without indicating.